|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Thu Jun 18, 2009 7:05 pm
I suppose since Steph likes my writing so much I'll add in some other writing samples. Roleplaying posts, short stories, whatever the hell I come up with. It's also sort of a storage space. Just in case.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Jun 18, 2009 7:11 pm
My first attempt at posting a sample for an Adv. Lit. RP. This took about twenty minutes or so to write. Total words: 730
Nikki tossed and turned on her oversized bed repeatedly, her soft, silky pajamas keeping the warm, yet itchy wool of the comforter she lay under at bay. She knew that she had school in the morning, but a wild case of insomnia had been keeping her awake for the past...How long was it now? She sat up and checked her clock. 2:55 AM, Eastern. That means that she'd been trying to sleep for almost 5 entire hours now, and she could almost no longer bear it. Thinking a night time stroll through the house may help her, she sat up out of bed, naked toes wiggling out in the darkness for the comfort of her bunny slippers, and stood, stretching and rubbing imaginary sleepies from her eyes. If anyone was up this late, it would probably be her father, watching his favorite TV shows, and he had a habit of being very violent whenever he caught her doing something she wasn't supposed to be doing.
Stealthing slowly across her tiny bedroom, Nikki silently grabbed hold of her brass doorknob and cracked the door open, the old building creaking with protest, as if it too, were trying to sleep. There didn't seem to be any noise in the hallway, nor any light downstairs, so perhaps getting down to the kitchen to satisfy a sudden craving for a glass of milk would be a simple enough process. She emphasized her footsteps as she slipped out of the doorway, her rabbit friends softening any footfalls to a mere whisper, which didn't even echo across the shadowy walls. Ever so slowly, she tried to ease the stubborn door shut, grimacing as it made the slamming noise they were prone to make whenever they decided they didn't want to close.
Without warning, the hallway light in front of her turned on. Nikki whirled around, half expecting to see her parents at the lightswitch at her back, but instead saw only empty air - and darkness. She quickly turned back around, and the light was gone, but, something else was different. She squinted in the dark, barely able to make out the moon's light on the stairwell...And the figure in front of it.
The creature itself was absurdly tall, as if some malevolent giant had grabbed him and pulled his feet and head apart as far as they would stretch without breaking. It even had to hunch over to fit in the narrow hallway, but its body was otherwise completely straight. Still. Motionless. Nikki blinked, and began to back away.
This did not seem to go well with the creature. It too, blinked. But not in the sense that it closed its eyes. Rather, it seemed to teleport, moving at such an absurd speed, several feet ahead in less than a second. Frightenened now, Nikki grabbed for the door, only to find that the once finely polished brass knob was replaced by a dirty, broken knob that snapped off of the door as soon as she turned it. Determined to get away from whatever the hell was in front of her, Nikki smashed her body against her bedroom door, adrenaline rushing through her body, as well as confusion as to why the damn thing wouldn't budge.
Finally, the portal broke down, and she fell threw, straight into the arms of the tall man in the hallway. Its long, spindly fingers caressed her throat, as she began to realize her doom was near. "Shh..." said the creature, in a devilish voice, a mix of her mother, her father, and something else, a demented tone of sadism. "It will all be over soon..."
The creature then tightened its grip, and quickly snapped her neck off, tearing the skull right off of her torso. Instead of falling, however, the body stayed upright, and the head turned to dust. In a rather unnatural fashion, perhaps because either she had lost her head or because of the more backwards gait she was taking, Nikki's body stumbled towards a boarded up, nearly shattered window, covered in blood and feces, and threw herself through the boards, which had been brittle and weakened with age to begin with. The body fell, forever, and ever, into a never ending pit, as soul and mind grasped each other by hand for the last time before being torn apart into oblivion, and Nikki Sullivan was no more.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Jun 18, 2009 7:20 pm
After that, I found a zombie RP. I made two entry posts. Here's the first one, edited to kill off the mistakes I made. Total Words: 768
Wesley Tombstone found himself rolling off of the couch, his gaming controller still in his hands. It had been another long night, killing zombies, hunters, smokers, and the like on his video game, and he had finally beaten the game on the hardest difficulty, despite being three men short. It was a dream come true - with this last bit of achievements in his credentials, he was going to finally be accepted by MLG, to compete against the world in video games - and get paid for it! The prospect made Wes so happy he just had to get stoned again.
The last he saw of his six ounce bag of weed was with Timmy, though, who had slept over at his house to help him get his achievement. He had probably stolen his bed (after killing him hundreds of times, no doubt) after he figured out his buddy had went to sleep. Suddenly, Wes began to feel a bit of anger. He knew Timmy's habits, and there was not one doubt in his mind that he had stolen and smoked every last bit of his weed. <********> he thought. Never lights up with me, always when I'm sleeping.
Still a tad groggy, Wes stretched out and stumbled to his room over garbage and used dishes. It didn't cross his mind till a few steps later that they were there, since his mother usually cleaned up on the weekends. Funny...I wonder where she went... It took him a moment to get to his bedroom door, the hallway giving him just barely enough room to fit two people facing each other side by side. He took a deep breath, trying to raise his angry voice, and began beating on the door with his fat fists. "Yo, Timmy! The cops are here, where'd you hide the grass?!"
This usually got his attention - twice now, had the two been nearly caught for possession, but with a bit of quick thinking, they were able to get rid of it. It made them both paranoid as hell, especially Timmy, who was on the verge of completing his senior year and didn't want anything spoil his last few months of high school. But there was no reply from the room. It was as if-
Then, a moan. From behind the door. It was quiet, but there was also a rustling, as if something were moving behind there. Wes let out a bit of an annoyed sigh. "Tim, you pull this s**t all the time man, I'm not falling for it again!" He threw open the door, expecting to see his buddy shuffling around with the expression of a mentally handicapped person, drooling all over.
What he didn't expect to see was his friend completely mutilated, stomach ripped open, limbs torn off, face in an expression of both surprise and excruciating pain. His guts spilled out over his once white as snow sheets, half-eaten by the monstrosity his mother had become in front of him. The woman, once a beautiful, green-eyed blond woman, now had no hair at all, and flesh a sickly, dirty emerald color. Her business suit was covered in grievous injuries and guts, and her foot had been dragging along the ground, broken in several places, which what had caused the rustling.
All of this hit Wes right in the face like a cold hard slap. What in the hell was going on? I heard about this s**t in the news, but... It took him a moment to process the entire thing - this was his dream. A zombie apocalypse. The undead everywhere, ripe for the kill. Pillage, rape, looting, it was all going to be a fun time. But looking into the literal empty eye sockets of his mother, he knew that this was not at all going to plan. Not at all. He watched his friend begin to rise from the bed before he slammed the door, cold sweat splattering his face.
"Sweet jesus," he said out loud. "I don't think I'm dreaming...Where the hell...Where the hell am I gonna go!?" The banging on his door reminded him he needed to go, and fast. For extra protection, he found himself a gray hoodie, slipped it on, and stepped outside, his apartment void of any defensive item.
"Where to go...Where to go...Gun store!" His first thought was like everyone else's as he pushed himself off of the second floor staircase and ran as fast as his fat legs would carry him towards Gunther Street. It was only a few miles - he could make it...
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Jun 18, 2009 7:27 pm
And the second post. Total Words: 774
One.
Staff Sergeant Michael Hunt held his rifle pointed low to the ground around the corner of a large, detached train car, leaning just over it to get a good view of the port. There were hundreds of them here, probably just coming off of the ships for a good vacation, the sorry bastards. Private First Class Masters stood adjacent to him, with the two corporals Kerrigan and Wilson covering her back. The military was well equipped for such a menace, wearing light kevlar and ski masks for mobility instead of the standard camouflage. Hunt held his arm in the air in a "Prepare to Move" command, while his three comrades waited behind him for the order. There was an uneasiness in the air, as if killing was something new to all of them.
Two.
Hunt cleared his head and steeled his nerves. He was sure to give enough time to each of them for the same. They had been there for nearly a week now, and had already lost five of the squadron to this swarm. He still remembered Sergeant Elsheim's face as she was taken and devoured by so many of the once proud members of society. If only he had done something more to save her, things would be different now...
Three.
He looked back at his squadmates. Each and every one of them, he could tell, were as stressed out as he was. Each day, the fighting grew more and more, and all they could do was run out of ammo. They still had two more weeks before the military would resupply them, but the only way they could was through the port, since the airfield was reported overrun weeks ago. The only things they had left to cling to were personal items, four days worth of rations, and about another five clips each for their M16A1s. This, of course, quite negatively affected morale, and one of them was certain to break soon.
Four.
Hunt thought about placement, where they could effectively take out as many as possible without leaving themselves vulnerable, and began to look around. There was no way they could use only their rifles through the sheer number of these things, and he was out of grenades. He spotted a crane, and had a wonderful idea. This would definitely show them who's boss.
Five.
With a wave of his hand, the squad pushed themselves around the corner, his comrades shooting in different directions at the zombies that had barely enough time to notice them. "Zulu down!" he heard in all directions as he shouted over the din.
"Cover me! I'm headed to that crane!"
Pfc. Masters stayed close to him as the Cpls. swept the area, the zeds now entirely aware of their presence. One of them grabbed Kerrigan's arm, and Wilson was barely swift enough to shoot it in the skull before it had a chance to bite him. With his rifle down, Wilson emptied his pistol out into the horde before sliding it back at his hip and picking his rifle back up. They were all screaming, yelling, backing off back to back as more and more crawled over on top of each other, each hungry for the flesh of what was once their brothers, their overwhelming stench similar to that of an ocean of vomit and feces. It was a wonder any of them could still breathe in the smell.
It took six long minutes to reach the crane. Masters had run out of extra clips on the way there and was picking them off with her M9 as best she could, climbing the structure with her staff sergeant. Hunt could only hope that the keys were in the slot, and...
"Ah! We're in luck!" he exclaimed over the now loud sounds of the crane's engines. Kerrigan and Wilson looked up, backing away as they realized what was going to happen. "Masters, have you any experience driving this thing?"
Pfc. Masters swallowed. She had no vehicular training at all - armor was up to Kerrigan, and he was down below. But not one to disappoint, she spoke up. "Sir, no sir! I can read the manual and find out though, sir!"
"We don't have time for that s**t! Keep them out of the crane!" Hunt began fiddling around with the controls, seeing if he could find out how it worked. He had precious little time, and would probably need help if he was going to have any chance of saving his comrades...
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Jun 18, 2009 7:30 pm
Also, Steph. Here's the reason why I don't like my writing very much. He Calcephony  -----i'м--H a η η a н ---------- ✖ ❀ ✖-----&&& γou яocк мγ ωoяℓ∂------• ´ ` • . • ´ ` • . • ´ ` • . • ´ ` • . • ´ ` • . • ´ ` • ´ ` • . • ´ ` • »you know i'm such a fool for you.
you got me wrapped around your finger, ah, ha, ha.
do you have to let it linger? do you have to, do you have to,
do you have to let it linger?
----------Both of her eyes shot open. The faded, light blue colour of her irises looking murky in the dim glow of her room. What caused her to wake up was not the radio. Down the hall, in the kitchen, her parents were already up and about; packing some snacks and games for the long trip ahead. Her five year-old brother is screaming and giggling as he played one of the many dancing games they owned. She covered her head with her lumpy pillow, trying to drown out the noise of the crowd’s booing and cheers as he made or missed a step. The radio went off, playing a Spoon song. Hannah groaned, reached out from under her blanket, and then pressed a button on the alarm clock. At the click of a button the volume got lower. When it was at an acceptable level, she sat up. A layer of her hair stuck out in all directions. It looked almost like she was touching one of those balls of static electricity. In fact, she had one in her room sitting on the top of her desk. Small as it was, it did produce quite enough electricity to create a big shock. She rubbed her face and eyes to wake up, and then sat for a moment and stared at the tiny green streams reaching out from the center of the orb. Today was the first day of her adventure with him. It was hard to believe it, but it definitely was that day. Watch out, Florida, here we come.
----------"Come on out, dear, and have some breakfast!" her mother yelled through the rotting door.
----------Once her mother left the doorway, Hannah turned up the radio. It would be a while before she would be ready for breakfast. Clothes still needed to be packed and boundries had to be explained to her brother - starting with her dance games. That was for later, though. She brushed her burnt umber tangles. The floor was like a mine field from the previous night's rampage. A packing rampage. One thing was for sure: she, like the rest of her family, was infamous for doing almost everything at the last minute. Which would explain why her parents were rushing to pack some food to nibble on for the trip. After she stood up, Hannah stretched her arms as high as they would go; until her heels were off the ground; a little glint of silver indicating there was a piercing on her belly-button beneath her white tank-top. Something from a dare and the result of a painful two month's grounding. Nothing but soup and crackers to eat; the only link to the outside world was her cell phone. Well, it was not all that painful since she could talk to him. She would not know what to do if they never talked again. He was like a brother to her. Sometimes it felt like more.
----------"Your shower's ready," her mother announced before going back to the kitchen. Hannah turned the corner of her bed, almost slipping and falling on a stray sock, and opened her door before racing to the bathroom. When a shower was running in her household, you had to race to it or else her father would claim it. Once undressed and in the shower, she smiled. Her muscles relaxed under the cascade of heat and pressure. A timer went off in her head and she stepped out; wrapped a towel around herself, then walked briskly back to her room. After drying off then slipping easily into a pair of worn and torn jeans, a fresh bra, and a navy spaghetti-strapped top, Hannah sat back on her bed and slipped on the only pair of shoes she had: classic black-and-white high-tops. The shoelaces were new, but no one could ever tell because she doodled and wrote over every inch of her shoes. Chucks were one of her loves in life. For over a year now her shoe size has not changed; there was never a need to buy a new pair; besides, these ones were special and had been through just about everything with her - like him. Hannah sighed happily, tapped the sketch of a black tree on the head of her left shoe, and then launched herself off her bed to commence packing her bags. A bag of necessities had already been filled up and sat on the counter in the bathroom. One bag down, one to go. The second bag was fairly big and could hold up to about a month's worth of clothing. Hannah liked to mix-and-match a lot of her clothes, so she packed a reasonable number of tops, long-sleeved and short-sleeved and no-sleeved, two zip-up jackets, underwear, socks, and a few pair of jeans. Everything in its place meant she was finished. Breakfast for the growing girl waited in the kitchen. Before that, however, she had to pull a certain someone away from the television.
----------"No! I wanna play!" her brother cried as she picked him up around the waist and carried him to the round, scratched-up table. Hannah looks weak, but that is where a lot of people make a mistake. She held her kicking and screaming brother in his chair with one hand while trying to pour some Cheerios into a plastic McDonald's bowl. Cereal fell onto the floor and on the table as the five year-old continued his screaming. I regret ever letting him play that game, she thought as she left him in her mother's care. Hannah sat across from her sibling, then began eating some lukewarm eggs. "So much for rushing the shower," she complained. The milk was still cold, making up for the bad eggs. "Dad, I'm not taking any snacks," she said after finishing off the milk. "You gave me enough loose cash, and I still have enough on my card." Her brother ate every Cheerio off the table top; her mother was trying to make him quit eating the filthy food. Hannah's father finished placing sodas into a small cooler, then looked back at her. "Nonsense! You and Daniel need to put some meat on your bones!" he said and laughed as he joked around by flexing his not too different structure. Hannah rolled her eyes.
----------Her mother walked up to Hannah and began fussing about her daughter's hair. Hannah tried to swat her pesky parent away, but to no avail. Her hair, reaching just below her shoulder blades, did need a bit of a trim, but she liked it the way it was. Blow-dry after a shower, brush, and maybe a bit of gel. But her mother wanted to pull it out of her face with some hairclips. At least they were cute ones; retro clips were cool in her book. When her mother left the room, Hannah took the clips off and stashed them in her pocket. The sound of muffled singing made everyone look around. It was not her mother. Her brother sat in his chair giggling. "That's my jacket, you little insect!" She quickly got out of her seat and chased him around the table a few times before their father intervened. "Looks like Daniel called," he said. The ring tone stopped abruptly when no one flipped open the antique cell phone. It vibrated a moment later to tell them there was a new message.
----------"Hey, I'm the only one who can call you cute names," her father whined, as a joke, of course, when he heard the message.
----------"That was Daniel, wasn't it?!" She felt a bit depressed for being able to respond to his call. Hannah's mind zipped back to the situation at hand. "Gimmie that!" she said and snatched the phone from his hand, snapping it shut. Bits of cereal were brushed off her stripped, zip-up hoodie with disgust before she ran back to her room and gathered her bags. "Bye mom, bye dad," she paused to hug each, including her brother, "I have my cell phone and an extra battery... and...." In her mind she checked things off a list. Her mother stood, doing a 'continue' motion with her hands, hoping her daughter would remember the two last things. "Oh! and my glasses and the camera!" She exhaled in relief, gratefully took the camera and her glasses, holding them between her teeth, and then hugged the other again before heading outside. Outside the yard looked slightly overgrown. Hannah walked down the straight path to the edge of the street, put her bags down, and balanced herself on the bigger one as if sitting on a regular chair.
----------She waited patiently. He promised to pick her up in a few minutes. She knew if he would be nearby because his van, a lovely one, in her opinion, especially since she did not own her own vehicle yet, made a distinct sound as it traveled along the ruined pavement of her street. Hannah tapped her feet, ecstatic about the next two weeks she would be spending with him. || ౦ ౦ ౦
oh, i thought the world of you.
i thought nothing could go wrong,
but i was wrong. i was wrong.
if you, if you could get by, trying not to lie,
things wouldn't be so confused and i wouldn't feel so used,
but you always really knew, i just wanna be with you.
------• ´ ` • . • ´ ` • . • ´ ` • . • ´ ` • . • ´ ` • . • ´ ` • ´ ` • . • ´ ` • »
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Jun 19, 2009 11:52 pm
Untitled.
Ants. Ants everywhere. The little bastards are trying to spy on me, and rat me out to their queen, I know it. Saw one, today, that I did. The bugger was crawling across my walls as I was eating lunch, and it turned its body away from the wall to stare at me. Nobody else saw it, not Dean, not Marsha, nor any of their maggoty friends. They just looked at me too, and I knew that they had them.
I smacked Martha and Dean with a frying pan, then smashed the ant. The guts of the dying creature burned a damn hole through the pan itself, and I dropped it, in fear that it would spread. I ran to my bedroom after that, and locked my door.
Soon, the ugly little beasts crawled in through the door. First one, then two. Then a small army. They all stared at me, with those huge, unblinkable eyes. I smashed them all with my slippers, but they all kept coming. Soon, a whole swarm was racing in like a tidal wave, and I crawled up on my bed for dear life.
I had a can of raid for just this occasion. I sprayed it like a flamethrower of hope over my oppressors. They fell on top of each other, but I couldn't cover everything at once. I felt a stinging pain and realized they had crawled up my pant leg.
"AGH! GET AWAY FROM ME YOU HORRIBLE LITTLE BEASTS!" I cried out for help from Jamie, but she was in the kitchen with a knife in her gut, preparing dinner with her abdomen it seems. She could not hear me anyway - I cut off her ears to eat since she decided to be slow in cooking. The mansion really was falling apart these days...
Oh, right. The ants. I guess I just faded away - what without legs, I seem to have slipped into some sort of coma. I lost a lot of blood - I couldn't even move. All I knew was that those disgusting vermin had crawled up to my head, and all gathered on my face as a beard of sorts. I tried to scream, but nothing would come out. They just stared right into my eyes, and I could have sworn its mandibles whispered vengeance at me for destroying their hill and their queen before they began gnawing on my eyes.
I felt this. Mostly as just a dull scraping. It wasn't painful; I had begun to accept the fact I was going to die. Now if only I could watch that baseball game...The Reds were supposed to be going against
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Jun 04, 2010 4:47 pm
Not that it matters too terribly much, but my deviant art is here
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Reply
